The Papergirl
by ImThatTypeOfGirl
Summary: Jack Frost used to know this girl, but when he starts to remember all the terrible things that happened between, can he summon up the courage to face his painful memories head-on? Will he ever forgive himself for what happened? ONE-SHOT with Jack Frost x OC, Review please! It would mean a lot to me :) Rated T to be safe.


**A/N: OH MY GOD. IT BE FINISHED. This took me a total of about five days and about 20hrs of writing. So please, **_**please**_** tell me if you find any mistakes in it; constructive criticism welcomed, fireballs not. So it's a ONE-SHOT based around Jack (duh) and an OC. Sorry if you don't like that sort of thing! **** Lots of romance, a little drama, blah blah blah ;) Review please; it'll only take a second!**

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**THE PAPERGIRL**

"C'mon Frostie, tell us what's naggin' you," pestered Bunnymund, following Jack down one of the many corridors of North's home.

"You're what's nagging me, cottontail," Jack snapped, making sure his gaze didn't land on Toothiana, who would surely be upset to see them fight.

"But Jack," her delicate voice sounded somewhere behind him. "You've been upset for days – you need to tell us if there's something wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine!" he exploded, turning to face them in the shadows of the hallway. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

He_ would_ be fine, he told himself as he stormed off to a darker corner of the building, where the dust had gathered and old pieces of toys had been thrown aside._ I'll just sit here and wait until the few days pass. The world can manage a few days without snow, right? Just a few of days while I - _

With a jolt he hurriedly stuffed himself into the corner as the memories returned, bright and as painfully vivid as ever. He curled himself into the tightest of balls and, breathing slow and deep, let himself remember…

_He had left the frozen lake far behind, his feet skittering across the icy pavement. He mindlessly made his way toward the nearest town; letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted._

_Dawn was breaking over the horizon, sending out rays to paint the sleet-grey canvas in a wondrous rainbow of golden colours. Jack made his way down the street, invisible in comparison the grandeur of the sunrise behind him. The people who spent their lives in this town were still in peaceful slumber; windows closed, curtains drawn. Jack slowed to watch a girl cycle past on her bike, a red-patterned backpack strapped across her back and a bundle of newspapers tied tight with pale yellow string held tight in one arm. He followed, curiosity aroused. She cycled down the street; slowing slightly and allowing herself time to throw a bundle of papers into each house's front garden. The bundles hurtled through the air and landed with perfect accuracy at the bottom of the steps, nestling themselves into the early snow Jack had brought. He cocked his head, a wide grin spreading across his face._

_He'd never actually seen someone enjoy a job as meaningless as this, and this girl seemed to enjoy it __**very**__ much. He watched her cycle for a while longer, tugging his hood up over his head and walking with his staff tapping gently across the ground, sending out icy fingers of frost across the pavement. His smile faded as the papergirl rounded the corner at the end of the street – her bundle of papers now dwindling - and disappeared out of sight. He sighed and walked across the road, slowing his pace now there was nothing to spark interest in his surroundings, to the wrought-iron gates of the park opposite._

_It wasn't a children's park; there were no swings, there were no slides, no roundabout. The park was full of trees, leafless and bare and laden with snow. They would be beautiful in spring when the cherries blossomed, when the oaks grew their leaves back. Right now, though, they looked thin and sickly, black branches against the pure snow._

_"Because of me," Jack muttered, jumping the iron gates, his eyes flickering to the stripped trees. "My fault. I ruin everything."_

_He scanned the barren scene and spotted an old wooden bench nestled amongst the snow. With a soft sigh he bounced over to it and sat himself down, feeling the cold wood slightly damp at his touch. He curled his legs underneath him, his feet in his hands and his staff resting against the back of the bench from behind him. He merely sat for a while, his hood brushing gently against his ears as he listened to the sounds of the morning. Soft birdsong began to filter through his conscious as the sun began to climb higher in the sky, its gorgeous artwork of beams smeared and blurred, fading now. The icy wind would have bothered him but he no longer felt it anymore and watched as it danced through the sky, gathering up his gentle snowfalls and distributing them across the town._

_He let his hands fall to his sides, his fingers tapping gently against the rough wood of the bench seat. It was after several moments of this dull rhythm that a force spread over his dancing fingers and stopped them from moving. _

_Jack froze. He felt his eyes slip down to where his hand sat on the bench seat, the back now covered by someone else's, slender and pretty and so very __**warm**__._

"_You looked lonely," she said, answering the question that wasn't asked. _

_Jack didn't respond, still baffled at her blatant show of uncalled for affection. Who was this girl? And then there was the whole other situation that was on his mind; although right now it was so huge he daren't face it. No, no! He had to at least get the words out, and then maybe this might seem less enormous._

"_You...can __**see **__me?" he whispered, his breath catching in his throat, the words catching on his tongue. He still refused to look at her, lest she be a figment of his imagination. Make-believe seemed like the easier and less painful route to go down._

_Laughter. Her laughter sounded like raindrops on the windows at night, when it was getting cold and the wind was very gentle. And it wasn't mocking laughter, it was __**confused**__._

"_What do you mean?" Even without looking at her Jack could tell she was smiling. Maybe it __**was **__time to look at her, see this amazing girl, the first person to believe in him. The enormity of the situation still overwhelmed him; it was easier just to go on like a statue until he was ready to deal with the emotions that would come later._

"_I mean, __**can you see me**__?" Jack repeated, a little louder, forcing himself to look up, meet her gaze. She was lovely, with very pale skin and soft blonde curls. She had forest green eyes, the only vibrant thing about her very pastel complexion, apart from her smile. Her smile was dazzling, true and pure. _

"_Of course I can see you!" she laughed, like seeing him was the simplest thing in the world. "What, did you think you were invisible?"_

_Jack sighed. "Something like that."_

"_My name's Mors," she bounced into the introduction, no warning, pulling her hand from where it rested on top of his and held it out. "What's yours?"_

_And so suddenly a weight was lifted from his chest. Sure, Jack would have to deal with the tidal wave of feelings later on but right now, right in front of him was his first believer and she wanted to be __**friends**__. She was amazingly outgoing and headstrong. Hey! That was his job! _

"_I'm Jack Frost," he grinned in retaliation, grasping her hand and shaking it vigorously. _

"_Nice name," she smiled. It lit her face with a kind of glow, making everything else around them seem so insignificant it wasn't worth even thinking about. "I always loved names to do with the weather."_

_And as they talked, one thing very slowly dawned on Jack. The hair, the smile, the clothes...his gaze very briefly drifted over to the gates of the park, where a very familiar bike rested against the wrought-iron gates. Across its handle bars a red-patterned backpack was slung, casually drooping down to lean against the front wheel. His eyes snapped back to Mors, where she sat chatting away happily to him, one leg curled underneath her and the other slung down the side of the bench._

"_You deliver the papers!" Oops. He hadn't meant to say that out loud._

"_Uh, yeah," she seemed a bit startled, cut off mid-sentence. "I deliver to the street in the morning. Why?"_

_Jack flushed with embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck with a free hand. "Uh, I saw you, today, cycling."_

"_Alright," she gave a lopsided grin, a lot like his own. "Any significance to you?"_

"_No, you just seem so happy when you do it."_

"_Yeah, well," she smiled and averted her gaze. "My mum and dad work late and they don't make much money so I thought I'd try to bring in a little extra between my studying."_

"_Oh," Jack didn't really know what to say._

"_But you're right," Mors continued. "I do love it. It feels like I'm flying, cycling round and round and making money from something I love."_

_Jack's eyes lit up and he shoved back his hood. "Oh, would you like to fly?"_

"_Oh, would I ever!" Mors gushed. "But we've never had enough money to go on holiday, let alone in a plane."_

"_You want to, then?"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Don't tease me, Jack."_

"_I'm being serious!" he grinned, jumping up off of the seat and grabbing his staff. "You coming?"_

_She nodded energetically and stood up, her boots crunching in the snow. Her gaze travelled down to Jack's feet and she gasped. "Jack! Where are your shoes – you must be freezing!" _

"_Nah," he shook his head and smiled. "Doesn't bother me – now come on, you wanna fly or not?"_

"_Sure," she nodded. "I just don't see how, unless you're gonna sprout wings and take off."_

"_Not quite," he smirked, stepping nearer. "'Kay, put your arms around me."_

_She laughed and wound her arms around his waist. "This seems like the start of a really bad pick-up line."_

"_Holding tight?"_

"_Any tighter and you wouldn't be able to breathe."_

"_Okay – close your eyes. Closed? Good. Get ready for take-off! Three, two, one…"_

_There was a rush of air as suddenly the breeze that played about the streets dashed into the park and spiraled around the pair, catching hold of their clothes and limbs and lifting them upwards. Of course, all this happened in the space of a few short seconds so when Mors opened her eyes at Jack's command they were gliding above the street she delivered the papers to, feeling the wind dance in the air beneath them._

_She couldn't hold back her squeal of amazement – and just a tiny bit of fear. "Oh, Jack this is incredible! To be honest I thought you were just joking so I'd squeeze you but __**oh my goodness **__you really __**weren't**__!"_

"_Like it, huh?" Jack grinned, his arms outstretched to balance their weight. "Just like being in a plane, right? Except you don't get a seatbelt."_

"_Oh, this is even better than being in a plane!" she gasped. "Obviously I have no frame of reference but this is just fantastic! In a plane you'd never __**feel**__ the wind and – oh, Jack this is just brilliant! How are you __**doing**__ this?"_

"_I channel the wind currents around my body using my staff," Jack explained, glad of the attention to take his mind off of more complicated matters. "It's a lot harder than it looks with your excited squirming."_

"_Oh god, sorry!" she muttered, giggling at the sheer awe of it all. "Maybe we can sit down for a while? I really__** really**__ want to talk to you now!"_

_And so the seasons passed. February turned to May, May turned to August, August turned to October until Christmas came around once again. Jack and Mors became firm friends; he would sneak in to visit her whenever she wasn't studying - and on several occasions when she was. They talked for hours on end until there was nothing about each other either person didn't know. Jack had never had a best friend before. He decided he rather liked it._

_A bond formed between the two, like a chain, a link, made up of their hopes and their dreams and their feelings toward one another. Every moment they were together the chain grew stronger, and the longer they spent apart the weaker it became. And so Jack made sure the ache of loneliness in his chest was fed as he visited Mors whenever he found the time, between her studying and his duties to deliver snow around the world._

_But no amount of warning could prepare Jack for the shock he was about to receive that Tuesday morning of December 1998, when he popped in to spend time with Mors, whom he hadn't seen in about a week._

_He dropped onto her window ledge, bringing a flurry of snow to her street as he did. He was grinning; he had so much to tell her! It felt like forever since they'd last spoken! He rapped on the panes of glass with his knuckles and pried open the window instead when no-one answered. He rather ungracefully tumbled onto her bedroom floor, crying out a greeting in advance. He looked up, laughing, only to be gazing at an empty room. He tilted his head to one side, his smile vanishing._

"_She must be downstairs," he muttered to himself, picking himself up and heading down the short flight into the kitchen. Her parents couldn't see him so it was no trouble if they were there. But when he finally was standing in the middle of the floor the room was vacant too. _

"_Strange," he murmured. "She never goes __**anywhere**__. Where could she be?" He searched the rest of the house, which didn't take long as it was a cupboard compared to the houses she delivered the papers to. He combed every inch of the building, but she wasn't there. And neither were her parents._

_By now a little panic bird was stretching its petite wings in his chest. He waited inside her house for a day, just in case she returned home, but the door never opened, she never did come back._

_Little did Jack know, she never would._

_Jack soon got impatient. He darted outside the house and hung around until the nearest neighbour exited their home and made their way down the street. It was a long shot, but he had to try._

"_Hey, excuse me!" he called, running after them. "Please, you couldn't just tell me where Mors Messorem is, could you? And her family?"_

_After so long avoiding people, it still hurt when the young woman walked straight through him and away down the street. He staggered back, gasping, holding back the tears as he made his way along the pavement to Mors's door, where he collapsed on the doorstep. He had evaded that for so long; he had forgotten how painfully hollow it felt not to be noticed, acknowledged. _

_It __**ached**__._

_By now the panic bird was in full freak-out, fluttering nervously around in his chest, its tiny wings crashing against his ribs. He put a hand to his heart and breathed slowly, trying to calm himself down. But…what if he'd made Mors up? The beautiful papergirl who, amazingly, was is first believer? What if he'd invented the whole thing? Had he stayed away for too long and broken the spell?_

_He yanked up his hood and curled up on the step, his staff cast aside on the ground next to him, already beginning to dust with the sorrowful snow drifting down from the soft grey sky. It was all he could do to keep the hope alive, the tiny flame. _

_He felt the footsteps before he heard them, moving through his legs so quickly his eyes shot open and he leapt up, his heart in his mouth. He must have fallen asleep on the doorstep! And now he was getting stood on by home-comers; great, just what you –_

_Mors._

_He slipped through the swiftly closing door and called out Mors's name, dashing into the living room, happiness making him giddy. But it was soon squashed when he realized the only people in the room were her parents. _

_And they were crying. _

_He followed them through to the kitchen, desperate to say something but his tongue felt heavy and his mouth felt dry. The air was thick with grief, so much so Jack felt like he was choking. He mindlessly sat down at the circular table as they did, holding hands, eyes red-rimmed from weeping._

_This was really bad. So bad he felt his panic bird spread its wings again, growing so wide he couldn't breathe. Something had happened. Something terrible. _

_But what? _

_His head snapped up as Mors's dad took a piece of paper from his pocket and flattened out the crumples on the kitchen table. Jack leapt up and rushed over to see what was written on the page, and as his eyes took in the words they welled with tears._

_**PATIENT REPORT**_

_**Patient name: Messorem, MORS**_

_**Age: 16**_

_**Sex: Female**_

_**Diagnosed: 12/12/98**_

_**Diagnosed with terminal brain cancer the 12**__**th**__** of December 1998. Refused chemotherapy. Due to pass in two weeks. The doctors have already been notified of her situation. She will stay in St Finis Hospital until she passes.**_

_Underneath the patient report was a personal letter from the hospital to Mors's parents, explaining a little more in detail and trying to cushion the hard impact the rather tactless report provided. Jack barely looked at the letter and instead memorized the name of the hospital before running back upstairs to Mors's room and diving out though the open window._

_He immediately plunged roughly into the snow below, where he gathered himself up and ran round the front to collect his staff. Straightening his jumper and grasping his staff tight in his right hand, he took a deep breath and then launched himself into the air._

_It felt like someone had punched a gaping hole straight through the middle of his chest and ripped out his heart along the way. Every time they squeezed it he gasped out in pain and fear, all the agonizing emotions Mors had kept at bay with her bright, carefree laugh and endless conversations that never really seemed to have a starting point. _

_The more he thought about her the more it hurt; she only had nine days left before she was due to die. He hated even thinking the words - and to say them, well, it made him feel like he was eating glass. _

_He searched for exactly three hours in the surrounding area, never missing out any buildings; anything with a roof was a potential target. Eventually he found it; an ugly, dingy place in the far corner of an equally ugly, dingy town. He swooped down low and skittered through the front entrance where queues of patients were waiting in the foyer. He very quickly realized he didn't know which ward Mors was in, let alone her room number. He had to hang around, impatiently waiting for a nurse to mention which ward the cancer patients were in. _

"_Ward Three," she told a passing family, and immediately Jack shot off, his eyes scanning the directional posters on the walls. When he finally got to Ward Three it took only a matter of time to find Mors's room. He could see her through the little window in the top of the door and his heart stopped when he saw how frail she looked. Her normally pale skin was ashen and her eyes seemed a little sunken into her skull; she was like a shadow lying still under the hospital covers, a pre-issued gown already encasing her thin form._

_His hand hesitated on the door handle. Would she want to see him? All of a sudden he was so scared, scared that she didn't like him anymore, scared she wouldn't want to spend any more time with him. _

_With a shake of his head he cleared his thoughts and leaned down heavily on the door handle, opening it and stepping inside._

_Her room was dull and plain, with grey laminate floors and polished white walls. The lights were dimmed, a faint glow emanating from their metal container strips. The room was silent, apart from the shuddering beep of her heartbeat on the monitor beside her bed and the gentle sounds of her breathing._

_Jack didn't want to disturb her; she looked so peaceful, asleep, her golden locks splayed out around her on the worn pillows. He very carefully made his way across the floor, hearing the door click shut behind him. The blinds were pulled across the window, so very little natural light actually seeped in past their tight hold. He rested his staff against the far wall and sighed, putting his head in his hands._

_Everything was just so complicated. Why couldn't she live? She studied so hard and made extra money on the side for her family! She worked __**all the time**__, didn't she deserve to go on? Maybe she would pull through, be strong, fight it._

_Maybe._

"_You're awfully loud, Jack Frost," Mors's muttered words came from her general direction and Jack's head snapped up when he heard them. "I mean, I'm trying to sleep. Keep it down, you clumsy clut."_

_Jack couldn't hold back the grin. "Hey sleepy head, we got a big day! I'd packed our schedule full of snowball fights and snowmen; I guess it'll just have to wait!"_

_To his horror, he heard muffled sobbing and rushed over to Mors's bed, where she feebly tried to wipe away the tears._

"_Aw, hey, don't cry!" he whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you!"_

"_No, I know," she sniffed, attempting a smile. "But now I know I'm not going to get another snowball fight with you. __**Ever**__."_

_Jack exhaled, his panic bird fluttering around very gently in his chest. "I…yeah, I know. I'm…I'm really sorry, Mors .I was really worried when I went to your house and you weren't there, and then your parents came home and they were __**crying**__…"_

"…_And you came to find me?" she murmured, her eyes flickering up to gaze at his face. "That's really nice of you, Jack. You didn't have to though; you're probably really busy with it being December and all."_

_And suddenly Jack grasped her arm with his icy fingers, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "There's always time for friends, Mors."_

"_Not for much longer," again, she attempted a smile. "In nine days I kick the bucket."_

_He hated how lightly she could speak of her own death, as if was the easiest, simplest thing in the world and wouldn't matter much at all. He let her arm go and wandered over to the window, very slowly pulling the blinds open so it wouldn't hurt her eyes. Outside the snow fell in thick flurries, covering everything; the roads, the trees, the grass, the houses. The whole town looked like it had been covered in a thick layer of icing sugar._

"_Someone's been busy," she laughed, but it came out more like a wheeze. "It looks beautiful, Jack."_

_He nodded, his stomach twisting around like an angry viper. "You know, you ought to have a Bucket List."_

"_Yeah?" she rolled her head away, to face the ceiling. "I always thought I was too young for that sort of thing, but I guess youth isn't as eternal as I'd thought."_

_Jack handed her a pad of paper and a pen from the chair opposite her bed. "Have it done by tomorrow and maybe we'll have one last bit of fun, before…"_

"_I'd like that," this time she managed the smile, and as she took the pad from him he felt his heart go with it. He had to get out of here, __**now**__._

"_I'll be back tomorrow!" he cried, throwing open the window and disappearing out into the blizzard. He felt so twisted and confused, but most of all he felt __**angry**__. Why her? Why this amazing, beautiful, funny, smart, hard-working girl? Why his first believer? Why? It just wasn't __**fair**__! IT WASN'T FAIR!_

_With a shout of pure rage he threw himself upward into the building storm, letting the wind carry him high into the clouds where he sent huge flurries of snow down on the town below and the surrounding roads. When all of his anger had melted away and he was left only with the pain, he floated gently down to a secluded part of the nearby forest, found a hollow tree and settled himself into the darkest crook._

_And cried._

_It took all of his strength to walk back into her hospital room the next day, head held high, mischievous grin plastered on top of his mask of false confidence. It took all of his strength not to cry at how frail Mors looked, how thin and washed-out she was. There was eight days left. Eight days left until the worst day of his life, and most likely Mors's too._

"_So, let's look!" he smiled, taking the pad of paper from Mors's outstretched hand (which was shaking alarmingly)._

"_It's not much," she said, sighing, settling herself back onto the bed sheets. "What I think is achievable in the short amount of time we have and my current condition."_

_Jack's eyes scanned the page. He could pick out several distinct things in Mors's delicate, spidery handwriting:_

_**My Bucket List**_

_**Before I die I want to apologize to Rita Glenn, no matter how difficult it is.**_

_**I want to properly talk with my parents about the things I have held back on before.**_

_**I want to see the lake Jack told me about.**_

_**I want to spend the perfect day with Jack Frost.**_

"_Really?" Jack looked up, grinning. "_'I want to spend the perfect day with Jack Frost'_?"_

"_Sure, why not?" Mors smiled. "You're my best friend –my only friend. From what you've told me, I'm pretty sure you're going to be rather lonely when I go."_

"_Alright then, smartass," he laughed. "First thing's first: who's Rita Glenn?"_

_And so it began. It took several days to work their way through the list, but they did. Rita Glenn turned out to be an old high-school friend who Mors had fallen out with a long time ago. Unsurprisingly, as Mors was soon to be on her deathbed, they made up with only minor fuss and lots of tears. Jack didn't listen to what they were saying but Mors __**did **__pluck up the courage to speak to her parents about the things that troubled her. It meant only two items were left on the bucket list, and now with only three days until she was due to pass away, it didn't feel like they had much time left at all._

_Jack blew into Mors's room that very bright day of December 24__nd,__ with snow in his hair and the wind in his clothes. He grinned at seeing Mors already changed into warmer clothes under the hospital covers, a restrained smile on her face._

"_You ready?" he smirked, helping her out of the bed. _

_She nodded. "A little nervous, though. Are you sure this'll work? We won't get caught?"_

"'_Course it'll work!" he laughed, sweeping her up into his arms; she was worryingly light. "And we won't get caught, trust me. You remember the first time we flew, right? Okay, then just close your eyes and we'll be in the sky before you can say – "_

" – _Snow-day," she smiled, her forest green eyes bright and peering up into his own sapphire set. "I know; I'll be okay. Thanks."_

_He grinned and stepped up to the ledge, feeling the frail form of Mors weighing painfully in his arms. "Okay, let's go." With a very gentle leap he was out of the window and into the sky, full of snow flurries dancing through the air. His lake was only a two minute flight away, but the snow was cold and the wind was brutal. Would she make it? He willed the snow to stop and so the flakes stilled, gradually thinning out until only the cold wind streaked through the sky._

"_Where did the snow go?" Mors's muffled voice came from his arms._

_Jack winced. "I thought it might give you the chills, so I, uh, sent it away?"_

"_Oh. I'm okay Jack, really. Can I see it…please?"_

_He glanced down at her pale face, surrounded by a soft fur hood and her eyes wide with hope. "Sure thing, Ice Queen," he teased, beaming to her as he summoned the snow back again. On cue, it began to fall steadily from the sky once again, the flakes settling on Mors's exposed golden curls and her pale cheeks. She smiled, her hand going out (rather tremblingly) to bat at the flakes._

"_I don't feel sixteen," she whispered, catching a few specks on her fingertips. "I feel six, and so very happy. You've done so much for me, Jack; I don't know how I could ever say thank you."_

_Jack choked back tears. "Just believing in me is enough. For that, I owe you the world."_

_She smiled. "Then the deal was sealed a long time ago."_

_They travelled in silence for a moment longer, savoring each other's company while it lasted. Despondency hung heavy in the air like a thick grey cloud, a fog that words could not penetrate. There were so many things that could be said, but they would never see the light. Some things that would stay silent. Forever. _

_They reached the lake in little under five minutes. Snow cascaded down from the heavens in huge spirals, resting on the ground around the frozen pond and dusting the trees in a heavy layer of white powder. Hefty grey clouds covered the sky in a miasma and poured snowflakes from their murky depths. Mors's first impression of Jack's frozen lake was utterly breathtaking._

"_Jack, this is…__**wonderful**__," she breathed as he gently touched down in the snow to the east of pond. "Your lake is even more stunning than you described it."_

"_Thanks," he smiled, carefully making his way to the water's edge where he sat Mors down in the blanket of white. She was wrapped up warm with a thick fur coat and snow shoes, quietly giggling to herself as she gazed out across the icy surface._

_As he watched her he felt a deep ache in his chest, like someone had walked through him again and not seen him at all. But this one was different, it physically__** hurt**__ him, laboring his breathing and making him clutch as his jumper with a free hand as little sparks of pain shot through his chest. His eyes lingered on her form, so happy and carefree it made him grin. He wished it could be like this forever, he wished he could __**do**__ something to stop what was happening to her. But he didn't even want to talk to her about it, whenever he thought about bringing up the topic his mouth would go dry and his tongue would feel like lead. It was just another thing they would never discuss. Not yet, anyway. Not now._

"_So what do you do here?" Mors's voice brought him shooting back to reality, leaving his thoughts to swirl around inside his head._

"_I usually just sit and think," he replied, leaning back on his hands. "It's great to look at everything and let your thoughts run wild."_

"_Did you bring food?" her hopeful smile made little spasms of pain ricochet through his chest. He nodded; he completely forgotten about the little pouch crashing around inside the front pocket of his jumper. With careful hands he brought it out and laid it on the ground between them, the blue cloth unfolding to reveal a few thick slices of bread with butter and cheese._

"_Feast fit for a Queen," Jack grinned, jumping up and bowing low, sweeping his staff under his chest._

"_Why thank you, good sir," mocked Mors, smiling as she gently took one of the pieces of bread and cheese and stole a bite. "Delicious, Jack. Where'd you get it?"_

"_A French restaurant in Paris. And - hey! Don't look at me like that! I left some money in the till, no need to __**glare**__!"_

_The day continued on pleasantly, most of the time taken up with mere conversation. Sometimes Jack would bounce up and skate around the pond, waving his staff to create icy patterns in the air. Mors would laugh and clap at his entertainment, beckoning him to come and sit down beside her again before he showed off too much and fell over._

"_This is doing nothing for your ego," grinned Mors, tapping at his forehead with a shaky finger. "I mean, look how big it's got! You won't be able to fit back through the hospital window!"_

_The joke was made with good intent but it cast a foreboding shadow over the pair, so much so the following conversations were short and to-the-point. Just when Mors thought it was about time to leave (and her heart felt heavy just thinking about it), Jack leapt to his feet and offered her a hand. _

"_Where now?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Jack shot her one of his heart-stopping grins, one of the crooked ones she loved so much._

"_Come on, just get up," he laughed, carefully slipping his arms around her waist and gently lifting her up, making sure he was supporting most of her weight. "We're gonna go for a spin."_

"_On the lake?" Mors's eye went wide. "Jack, are you __**mad**__?! We could slip and fall!"_

"_Hey, hey," he brought her face so close to hers he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume. "Trust me? We'll be okay."_

_And right then and there Mors __**did**__ trust him, with all her heart and mind – well, what was left of it anyway. He was just incredible, and he was doing it all for __**her**__. His dedication took her breath away._

"_You know, I saw a film once," Mors whispered as Jack guided her feet onto the icy surface of the frozen lake. "It was about a boy and a girl, and they were on a ship, and they were so different their relationship never could have worked."_

_By now they had very gently slid into the middle of the pond and were gliding round in soft circles, Jack never taking his eyes from her face._

"_But it __**did**__ work, because they made it so. They were so in love; it was really touching. But one of them passed away, you know, and life went on. Several years later the remaining person was still alive and well, and had finally moved on from their partner's death."_

_By now they had stopped in the centre of the pond, Jack holding Mors up with all of his strength and making sure they didn't collapse. They were so close, bodies pressed tightly together, so much so Mors could feel Jack's muscles moving underneath his jumper. His arms were wound tightly around her waist, keeping her up, pushing them together, faces so close they could close the gap just by leaning forward…_

"_It just shows," Mors breathed, her heart crashing around inside her chest. "That even if one person passes away, the other can go onwards, keep living, move on."_

"_But I don't want to lose you, Mors," Jack whispered, his face brushing hers, his minty breath on her cheek. His own heart was thudding hard against his ribs, but he had to get these words out. Sure, they wouldn't make a blind bit of difference to her condition, but he still needed to say them, make sure she knew how he felt._

_She shook her head, their noses rubbing together. "And I you. These past ten months have been the best of my life. Not only did I get a best friend, I - "_

_She gasped out loud as the tears began to slide down her cheeks, running off her chin and under the collar of her fur coat. _

"_Let me finish it," Jack grinned, his own tears pooling in his eyes. "I got a believer. I got someone to confide in, I got someone who understood. You loved me the way I am, oddball powers and all."_

_Jack assumed that if Mors and he ever kissed, it would be him to initiate it. Therefore he got the surprise of his life to find __**her**__ pressing __**her**__ lips against his, her tears rubbing off onto his cheeks and merging with his own._

_Mors broke off first too. She smiled at him with genuine happiness. "I always wanted to try that."_

_Jack pressed his forehead to hers and laughed very softly. "Yeah, me too."_

"_We should be getting back," Mors nudged him meaningfully and they began to make their way off the lake. "My nurse will have blown a blood vessel by now."_

_Jack very lightly lowered Mors into the snow again and headed for their makeshift dinner table. "'Kay, give me two seconds while I clear this away."_

_And all of a sudden Mors felt incredibly sleepy. She lay back against the snow, relishing the crunching sounds her clothes made as she pushed against it. Her head was hurting, like a bad headache after you've already taken paracetemol. The scene she closed her eyes on was amazing, though, with the snow falling steadily from the sky to gently layer the pond and Jack as he collected their things. Then she did close her eyes, and everything turned black. _

"_Mors!" Jack's voice, faraway and muffled. "Just hold on, okay? Dammit, this isn't supposed to happen for another two days yet! I'm getting you back to the hospital right now, but you gotta open your eyes for me! Can you do that? Mors?"_

_She tried, but it hurt. A lot. "I can't Jack, it's sore. Can't I just sleep?" her words, to her horror, came out mangled and slurred._

"_No!" Jack's voice, louder and much clearer now. "No, Mors, I'm so sorry, but you have __**got **__to open your eyes!"_

_She tried, God knows she tried, but the pain in her head was getting harder to cope with; it was like someone repeatedly knocking her skull against a brick wall. She had to get the words out, before she completely slipped away._

"_Jack," she said, physically controlling her tone so she didn't slur. _

"_Mors! You're gonna be okay, alright? The hospital's two minutes aw – "_

"_Shut up," she said through clenched teeth. The agony in her skull was unbearable and she had to tell Jack these last few things before she let go. "I'm sorry I didn't have enough time to talk with you because of my exams - "_

"_Mors, that's okay but - "_

"_No, stop it! Let me finish," she wheezed. "I'm sorry I never had that snowball fight with you on that Thursday in September. I'm sorry I never excepted your invitation to go someplace around the world with you. I'm sorry, __**so **__sorry, no one else ever believed in you. And finally, I'm sorry we never got enough time to say goodbye."_

"_Mors, I'm sorry too."_

"_You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?" Mors attempted a smile but she couldn't tell if it worked or not. The pain in her head was overwhelming; her vision was completely blacked out. "No regrets, no worries. Nothing to feel bad about when I go, alright?"_

_There was a pause. "Okay. What about your Bucket List?"_

"_I guess you'll have to tick the last two things off for me."_

"_Both of them? But you only saw my lake!"_

"_Jack, I had the perfect day with you. Perfect in my way, __**every**__ way."_

_She could hear him swallowing the tears. "I'm…really going to miss you, Mors."_

"_I'll miss you too."_

_She was vaguely aware of his cold lips pressing against her warm ones before she surrendered to the darkness and the pain in her head vanished. It was almost like she was falling, but it didn't hurt. She thought it would. It turns out death is smooth and clean and doesn't hurt at all._

_Jack burst in through Mors's hospital room window, her lifeless body in his arms. He was panicking; he didn't know what to do. He slipped her under the bed sheets, not bothering to remove her outdoor gear and rushed out to find the nearest nurse. He was panicking so much it took a few moment to register she had walked straight through him. _

"_Please, somebody!" he cried, at a loss at what to do. "Can __**anyone **__see me?" He yelled out in rage, slamming his staff against the nearest wall and sending out fingers of ice across the polished grey coating. "Somebody, please, __**do something**__!"_

_He darted back into Mors's room and hunted around for an emergency button of some sort. He gasped out in relief when he found it, tucked away underneath her bed, a big red control with the words 'in emergency only' printed in white across its face. He hit it immediately, but it still took several minutes for a nurse to appear. _

_By the time the doctor and many more nurses arrived, Jack was tucked away in the back corner, his face in his hands. No matter how hard he pressed his fists against his eyes, the tears still managed to squeeze through his fingers and drip onto the floor._

_For so many people the 24__th__ of December of 1998 was a happy time; it __**was **__Christmas Eve after all. For so many people it meant a night of excitement and no sleep, a night of anticipation for the morning. _

_For Jack, it was the worst night of his life. He lost his first believer, he lost his sweetheart, but most of all, he lost his __**best**__ friend. Like so many others, he didn't sleep that night. But when he finally did, he was the only one crying when the morning came._

**HERE LIES**

**MORS MESSOREM**

**DIED 24/12/98**

**THIS STONE IS TO MARK HER FINAL RESTING PLACE**

**MAY SHE FIND HAPPINESS IN WHATEVER HAPPENS AFTER**

**AND SOMEDAY**

**MAY THE ANGELS GUIDE HER HOME AGAIN**

Jack had managed to stumble of out of the Pole and make his way here, to Mors's cemetery, in the town she delivered the papers to oh so long ago. It had hurt him a fair bit to fly when he was in such a state but he needed to be here, to say a few things. He hadn't been here since the day of her death, and it still pained him to fly anywhere near here now.

It was time to face his past. _No regrets_, she had said. The why did he still feel like this? All twisted and sore and confused?

"I'm sorry I never came back," he whispered, standing in front of her headstone where several bouquets of flowers lay dying at the base. "I'm sorry I wasn't around more. I'm sorry for all the snide remarks I made about your room, your hobbies. I'm sorry for everything, I guess."

As he was speaking, several soft flurries of snow descended from the sky, which was a dull sleety grey. They began to coat the headstone in a thin layer of powdery flakes, patterning the flowers with specks of white. He blinked away the tears which were forming in the corners of his eyes and, with one last glance back at the grave, he made his way out of the cemetery and down the pavement of the street.

It still pained him to be here, walk these roads without the intention of seeing Mors – ever again. It pained him to walk through the gates of the park and to sit on the bench where they had first met. The leafless trees were so familiar, laden with snow and still startlingly dark against the white blanket he'd lain out. He almost laughed at the sanity of it all. Here he was, in the park, on the bench, and Mors was right. Life did go on, _was_ going on, without her.

So why couldn't _he_ move on?

He anxiously tapped his fingers against the seat of the bench, trying to figure out the confused mix of feelings and thoughts going on inside his head. He had new family now, new friends, who understood him better than anyone ever had. But they still weren't a patch on how he had felt with Mors.

He didn't even see it coming. At first he actually thought he'd been sitting there far too long and a layer of snow had built up over his fingers. But when the snow became warmer it clicked. It wasn't snow. It was another hand, covering his jittery one.

"Will you_ stop_ that? It is _so_ irritating. And do you know how long it's taken to find you, when you run about all over the world delivering snow-days? I have my own duties, you know, I can't just go gallivanting all over the place just to look for_ you_!"

That voice._ Her_ voice. It couldn't be! And yet…maybe he was dreaming! Making it up! Yes, of course, that was it. But North always said it was rude to ignore a dream, so Jack tried talking back.

"Why are you here?"

There was a pause. The heat between their fingers got very warm indeed and Jack almost felt like he should pull away, do something.

"You looked lonely."

At once his head snapped up and he met Mors's glittering green gaze. Her hair was longer and her skin was darker but it was still the same girl he'd fallen in love with what felt like such a long time ago. There were so many questions trying to tumble out of his mouth at once only one word managed to squeeze past his lips.

"_How_?"

She laughed, and it made his heart flutter to hear it again. "Your friend Manny; he took a liking to me, I think. I woke up and I was lying in the hospital bed with a sheet covering my body and I slipped out from under the covers. I was wearing this black gown and a silvery sort of scythe was propped up against the wall opposite." She stood up, gesturing her clothes and to the tool in her hand. "Now we match!"

Jack rose to his feet, his staff in his hand and a wide grin on his face. "So then what happened?"

"Well, I guess I kind of left my body behind. The moon told me I was something called the Grim Reaper and I was to collect the souls of the living as they passed from this world to the next. He said everyone has an hourglass of life, and when the grains run dry their time is up."

She took a very delicately patterned blue hourglass from beneath her raven-black cloak and held it up for him to see. It was carved with the most intricate of designs; soft blue swirls and icy white snowflakes. The grains, however, were more like shards of glass and had stopped falling through the slender neck of the glass. They were frozen, in time.

"Yours," Mors smiled. "Immortal." She slipped the hourglass back under her cloak and stood to face him, leaning her scythe against the bench.

"I did miss you," Jack said, mirroring her with his own staff. "A lot."

"I know; I missed you too."

"So what do we do now?" Jack asked, taking a step toward her.

"I don't know," Mors grinned. "A second chance for me…this time around things are going to be different."

"Yeah, they are," Jack smiled, closing the gap and drawing her into his arms. "No more 'not enough time' crap."

"Yeah," she breathed, their noses touching. "We have all the time in the world."

And as they pressed closer together all Jack could think of was the girl in his arms, the girl who had been his one and only friend in such a hard time, the girl whom he'd fell so deeply in love with, the girl who had died and been given another shot at life, _that _girl who'd worked so hard in her studies and made extra money on the side to help her family, that girl who never stopped to spend time for herself.

The papergirl, whom he first met in a park in a town he still didn't recall the name of. The papergirl, who'd stopped his hand and stole his heart.

**EPILOGUE**

Jack had so many things to tell Mors he didn't really know where to begin. It was such a huge event they needed to do something _small_ to compensate. Jack voiced his concerns as they made their way out of the park and down the main street. It was an odd sight to see, the pair, one in black and held a glinting silver scythe, the other in blue and brown and held a staff.

"So what did you have in mind?" asked Mors. "Before we get to the whole 'catching up' phase?"

"I don't know," he smiled, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, so their hips bumped together as they walked. "Something so small and meaningless we can just sit and _do_ it."

"How about a movie?" Mors suggested. "There's a cinema in the next town over."

"Yeah, there is," grinned Jack, his head moving closer toward hers, his lips brushing her ear. "And it's showing a very_ special_ film on its anniversary."

Mors raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Sounds like fun; count me in. What film is it?"

Jack very quickly stole a kiss, his lips touching hers for the fleetest of moments and then they were gone as he rushed out in front of her, his feet bouncing across the pavement, a wide grin lighting his face.

"The film? I'm sure it's called_ Titanic_."

* * *

**A/N: Hey, thanks for reading, leave a review please!**

**Okay, so, you're probably wondering about**_** Mors**_**'s name, aren't you? It's Latin for 'Death' and her surname, **_**Messorem**_**, is Latin for 'Reaper'. You can put together the pieces yourselves ;) **

**And, in case you didn't get the reference at the end, Titanic was the movie she was talking about when they were on the frozen lake ;)**

**I'm also heartily sorry to anyone who is also reading my 'Tainted' story, because I've been writing this instead of that *winces*. **** Sorry, getting back to it as soon as the inspiration grabs me!**

**Also, any questions or suggestions about this story are appreciated, so take the time to drop a review! Hope you enjoyed :D Thanks for reading!**


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